Reforming Kenny
by Jlbrew28
Summary: When Duncan MacLeod once more comes across Child Immortal Kenny, he decides it's time someone takes the boy in hand. A firm hand. Warning: spanking.
1. Running into Kenny

Highlander

**Highlander**

"**Reforming Kenny"**

Summary: When Duncan MacLeod once more runs across the Child Immortal  
Kenny, he decides it's time someone took the boy in hand. A firm hand.

Author's Note: Post-Series; before "End Game".

Rating: PG to PG-13--for swearing (this IS Kenny, after all)

Warnings: This fic will contain spanking of an Immortal minor.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just wrote this story for  
fun.

Chapter 1: Running into Kenny

Duncan MacLeod walked down the chilly streets of Seacouver in the  
late afternoon, deep in thought. It had been a year or more now since  
he'd last been here. The overcast skies that threatened rain didn't  
bother him any, as it reflected the somber mood he was in nicely.

More than a year ago, he had decided it was best all around if he  
left Seacouver. Not only were there too many good/painful memories,  
mostly of Tessa and Richie, here; but also there were too many  
Immortals. With the Gathering coming, more and more challengers had  
started to crop up, and most of them usually of the dishonarable  
variety. To protect those closest to him, he had left.

So, why had in returned now? That was a question he was still asking  
himself. Joe was still around, of course; as his Watcher it was the  
man's job to follow him whereever he went. Methos was probably  
lurking about somewhere, and Amanda was who knew where. There wasn't  
anything or anyone left here for him, so why had he returned?

Perhaps it had to do with the mood he'd been in lately. After  
wandering for more than a year, revisiting "old" friends or their  
graves, spending some time with Connor in New York, and even  
returning home to Glen Fenin, he had finally returned to Sea Couver  
to settle down. Paris held no joy for him anymore and Scotland was  
the land of his birth, it too did not appeal to him in any kind of  
way. So, it was to this city in Washington State that he had returned  
to.

He still owned the dojo, but had yet decided whether he was going to  
re-open it or not. He had actually been considering taking a job as a  
history professor that one of his old mortal friends had mentioned.  
They were looking for someone who was an expert at Celtic History and  
who better than Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, a true-born Celt.

The presence of another Immortal washed over him and he sighed. He'd  
been wondering when a challenger would make an appearance. He had  
been back now for several weeks and there hadn't been any sign of  
another Immortal, friend or foe. He had actually been hoping his  
arrival back hadn't been noticed by anyone, but apparently that was  
not the case.

Out of the alley in front of him came barreling a boy straight for  
him. He was a lad of ten in filthy clothes with dirty blonde hair and  
even dirtier face. At the sight of him, Duncan's face hardened. This  
was one boy he knew all too well. It was the Child Immortal, Kenny,  
who had crossed his path on two seperate occasions in the past and  
neither of them had actually been friendly.

The boy was over eight hundred years old. He had survived by using  
his own innocence as a weapon. Luring gullible Immortals in with a  
child-like demeanor, he would then take their heads while their backs  
were turned. He'd actually tried it with Duncan, but had failed; both  
times. Of course, the kid was also a frequent target of head hunters  
out for an easy Quickening so he had a reason to fear someone taking  
his head.

The kid apparently didn't see him or didn't care at that moment  
because he plowed right into him, nearly knocking him over. Kenny  
landed in a heap at his feet, letting loose a barrage of swear words  
that would have gotten his mouth washed out with soap if he were  
a "normal" ten year old. Looking up, he found Duncan glaring down at  
him and groaned.

"What are YOU doing here?" The Child Immortal asked him, getting to  
his feet. "I'd heard you went off to bury your head in the sand or  
something!"

Duncan scowled at the boy. "The question is, Kenny," he said,  
coldly, "what are YOU up to?"

"I ain't up to nothing, MacLeod," the boy said, rudely. "In fact, I'm  
kinda in a hurry..." He trailed off as the presence of another  
Immortal washed over both of them.

Duncan looked back towards the alley as a man in black, and carrying  
a rather large broad sword, stepped from it. He had a mean looking  
face and an even meaner scar.

"A friend of yours?" Duncan asked Kenny, smirking.

The boy's face had gone very pale and he was actually  
trembling. "Dmn!" he swore. "I thought I lost him! Thanks a lot,  
MacLeod."

"I don't know who you are," the black garbed Immortal spoke to  
Duncan, "but the brat is mine!"

Duncna raised an eyebrow. "Just exactly, friend," Duncan said,  
coldly, "what did an unarmed boy do to you?" He knew EXACTLY what  
Kenny was capable of, but he also knew that the kid didn't stand a  
chance in an actual fight with an Immortal. He may not like the kid,  
but he certainly didn't want him dead, either.

The black garbed man laughed. "That brat is no boy," he snarled. "I  
do thank you for saving me the trouble of chasing his scrawny as all  
over the city, though. It makes my job that much easier." With that,  
he whipped out a hand gun from behind his back and shot the Child  
Immortal before Duncan could react.

That did it! A challenge was one thing, but cold blooded murder was  
another. As Kenny fell to the ground in death, Duncan purposely  
placed himself in between the boy and the head hunter. His katana was  
in his hand and at the ready in an instant.

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," he spoke his traditional  
challenge, "and afore you take this lad's head yer'll hav'ta take  
mine and be assured, friend, I am not so easy a target."

"Damien Karne," Mr. Broadsword said, smiling wickedly. "All to the  
better. I'll take the head of the Highlander and get the brat as a  
bonus. What a lucky day's its been!" He moved to attack.

"We'll see how lucky you are," Duncan said, counting the man's wide  
sweep of his broad sword with a block of his own. The clash of swords  
echoed off the building around them. Thankfully, due to the whether,  
no one was out and about today. Plus, this area was scarsely  
populated which also gave them a measure of privacy.

The two adult Immortals fought for several minutes, gauging each  
other. Karne began to sweat, realizing too late that the Highlander  
was by far a better swordsman than himself. Duncan knew it, and was  
just waiting for the man to make a fatal mistake before delivering  
that fatal blow. When it came, he struck.

The Quickening that followed shattered windows and cars, caused a  
hyrdrant to burst, and caused man holes to blow off their covers.  
When it was over, Duncan was exhausted. Looking over at where Kenny's  
body still lay, he scowled, "What am I going to do with you?" He  
shook his head in disgust as he got to his feet.

Hearing sirens in the distance, he knew it was time to leave.  
Retrieving his katana, he walked over to the Child Immortal. He had  
once been sympathetic to the kid and that had come back to bite him  
in the butt, both times. Could he afford to do it a third time, or  
should he do everyone a favor and just take the kid's head himself.

No! That was out of the question. He would never again take the head  
of a child, not after...but that didn't matter right now. No matter  
what he couldn't just leave the kid lying there. Bending down, he  
scooped the boy into his arms and made his way from the scene just  
moment before several police cars appeared.

Getting into his black T-Bird, he carefully put the still unconscious  
Child Immortal in the back seat, got in and headed for home. What he  
was going to do with the brat when he got there, he had no idea. He  
supposed, he'd play it by ear...or he just might box the kid's ears  
if he gave him any trouble. That thought definitely had some merit to  
it.

TBC...Please,let me know what you think? I'd greatly appreciate it.


	2. Reflecting on a Little Problem

Highlander

Chapter 2: Reflecting on a "Little" Problem

Duncan pulled the T-Bird into the parking lot of the dojo  
and looked in his review mirror at the still "dead" Child  
Immortal in his back seat.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked himself again.

Sighing, he got out of the car and lifted the boy out with him.  
Carrying him upstairs to his loft and plopped him down on the sofa. He  
then sat down on the coffee table and started thinking.

The problem with Kenny was a simple one. The kid had become an  
Immortal at too early an age. He was forever a child, and there  
in lay the problem. Within that small body there was the mind of  
an eight hundred year old Immortal.

It didn't help that he had been left on his own almost immediately  
after he had Awakened for the first time. Amanda, who had been the  
one to find him, had only been with a few months before they had been  
seperated.

Just long enough to do damage

Duncan grinned at that thought because it seemed his old friend and  
lover excelled at that sort of thing. She had taught Kenny to use his  
innocence as a weapon, meaning for him to seek aid when he needed it,  
but instead he had used to be a head hunter. Had it been anyone else  
to find the boy, they would have used a firmer hand with him. Kept him  
in line long enough to fully understand the Game and to see that just  
maybe he wasn't meant to go around hacking people's heads off.

It's too late now. Isn't it

That brought up an entirely new question to the problem before him.  
Could Kenny ever change his ways? Could he actually learn to trust  
another Immortal, truly trust them, and allow them to help him? It  
would take an Immortal with the patience of a saint, and there weren't  
any of those left in the world.

Duncan sighed, beginning to wonder if Immortals COULD get headaches,  
when he looked over and saw two pictures on the small table beside  
the sofa. One was of Tessa, his beautiful lover of twelve years, and  
the other was of Richie, the Immortal student he'd taken in when he'd  
been just seventeen years old and not yet aware of potential. Both were  
gone now, but he knew what they would say concerning this little  
problem of his.

You want know until you try, Duncan. That'd be Tessa.

Yeah, Mac, go for it. Hey, you turned me around, remember?

Richie, of course.

Duncan grinned, remembering both fondly. He also knew they both would  
have been exactly right. He wouldn't know whether he could do it or not  
until he tried. Of course, he had a feeling it was going to take a firm  
hand to get through to the stubborn Child Immortal.

And no one ever accused his hands of being soft, after all.

His few moments of reflection were broken when the body on the sofa  
began to move.

It seemed his "little" problem was starting to stir.

Now, the battle would begin.

TBC...keep up the reviews. They're greatly appreciated.


	3. A Hard Lesson

Highlander

Warning: mild language (this IS Kenny, after all) and spanking

Chapter 3: A Hard Lesson

Kenny's eyes opened and he sat up quickly. Looking around, he found himself on a sofa in the middle of a familiar looking living room. Sitting on the coffee table, staring at him was MacLeod.

"Where's—" he started to ask, but MacLeod interrupted him.

"He won't be bothering you anymore," the man said, simply, shrugging.

Kenny's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why'd you help me?" he asked, sneering.

"Because I don't condone murder," the Highlander told him. "Challenging someone is one thing, but shooting them and then taking their head is completely different."

Kenny snorted at that. "Well, thanks, I guess," he said, not really sounding too grateful, "but I'm outta here." He hopped off the sofa and headed towards the lift.

MacLeod stood up. "When was the last time you ate?" he asked him, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

That stopped Kenny short. "What do you care?" he asked sneeringly.

MacLeod's jaw tightened. "I was just curious," he said, "about how long you can keep up what you've been doing?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kenny asked.

"I mean look at you," MacLeod told him. "It's obvious you haven't been eating properly, you're filthy, you're clothes are ripped and filthy, and you most certainly could do with a bath."

Kenny snorted. "Whatever," he said, and turned to leave again.

"How many headhunters have come after you lately?" MacLeod asked next, taking a step forward.

Again, Kenny stopped. "None of your business," he snarled back at the other Immortal.

MacLeod nodded. "That's what I thought," he said. "Aren't you tired of it yet, Kenny? Always running! Always hiding! Always hunted! Why don't you trust someone for once and stay some where safe?"

"Safe! You mean, with _you_," Kenny sneered. "You killed your own student, MacLeod! And actually _**liked**_ him!"

MacLeod's jaw tightened further. "Don't speak of that," he ordered, sternly, "and that has nothing to do with right now. Think about it, Kenneth? If I had wanted to take your head, don't you think I'd have just taken it while you were unconscious?"

"Don't call me that," Kenny told him, crossing his arms over his chest.

MacLeod raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" He asked. "It is your name, after all."

"So, no one calls me that," Kenny told him, stubbornly.

MacLeod grinned. "I think you don't like to be called that because it makes you feel like a kid," he said, smirking, "doesn't it, Kenneth?"

Kenny snarled. "I said," he said, angry now, "don't call me that!" Without really thinking, he charged at the Highlander.

MacLeod easily caught his wrists and moved out of range so that he couldn't kick him. "For someone who is eight hundred years old," he commented, "you're doing a marvelous imitation of a little spoiled brat!"

"Shut the H up!" Kenny snarled at him, struggling to get loose. "I'm not a D kid and you know it!"

"Really?" MacLeod said, grinning, "I don't know any such thing. All I see right now is a little boy in need of a good spanking."

Kenny snarled again, kicking out. This time, he managed to connect with the man's shins. He gave him a satisfied smirk when he saw him clench his teeth, only to loose the smirk when he saw the dangerous look he was giving him.

"You know what, Kenneth," MacLeod told him, "I think I'm going to give you what you deserve." He then dragged him back toward the sofa.

Kenny knew what he intended to do and dug his heels in every step of the way. "Over my very dead body," he snarled, struggling but to no avail.

"There's only one part of your body you should be worried about," MacLeod told him, sitting down, "and that's you're a!" With one quick jerk, he had him sprawled across his knees.

"MacLeod," Kenny snarled, kicking his feet and trying to get free, "you're so dead for this! I'm going to cut off your head—OW!" The smack that landed on his upturned backside stung all the way through his blue jeans.

"Someone should have done this a long time ago, Kenneth," MacLeod told him, raising his hand again.

SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!

"OW! AH!" Kenny cried out as seven very hard smack landed in the same spot on his "sit" spot. "If you think this is going to change anything, MacLeod you're F kidding yourself! OW!" A very sharp smack had landed on a particularly sore spot.

"It seems you're body isn't the only thing that could stand a good scrubbing," MacLeod told him, raising his hand again.

SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!

Kenny's butt had begun to sting now, and it didn't seem like the stupid Highlander was going to stop anytime soon. He felt tears began to sting his eyes, but he WASN'T going give the man the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"You know," MacLeod told him, as he continued to rein smacks down, "part of the problem is that you won't accept the simple fact that you ARE a kid."

"I'M NOT A KID, YOU M…HEY!" Kenny's outraged rant was cut off when he felt the Highlander reach underneath him and undo his jeans. He then felt the man's hand move to the waist band at the back and pull them down, along with his underwear.

"Not nearly red enough," MacLeod commented, staring at the boy's bare backside, "we'll need to do something about that." He raised his hand back.

**SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!**

Kenny had thought the smacks had hurt on his jean covered behind, but it was nothing compared to what they felt like on his bare a. His butt felt like it was literally on fire and tears had begun to roll down his face.

"Didn't your parents teach you manners?" MacLeod asked him, as he continued to assault his rear end. "Didn't they teach you anything about respect?"

"No," Kenny snarled at him. "OW!"

"See," MacLeod said, frowning, "that's exactly what put you in this position in the first place." He raised his hand again.

**SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!**

Kenny couldn't take any more. "All right," he cried out, "I'm sorry! Just STOP already!"

MacLeod looked down at the boy's butt. It was a deep dark shade of red that on a "normal" child would have caused bruising, but because the child in question was an Immortal would not take long to heal. Pulling the brat's pants back up, he pulled him off is lap but held on to him.

"You've been left on your own for far too long, Kenneth," he told him, "and that's stops right now. You ARE going to stay here whether you want to or not. You'll keep a civil tongue in your head and you'll do as you're told…or I'll blister your backside each and every time you don't! Do you understand me?"

Kenny glared, wiping furiously at the tears falling down his face. "You have to sleep sometime, MacLeod," he threatened, though what sort of threat he wasn't sure.

MacLeod's jaw clenched again. Turning him around, he delivered three very sharp smacks to his backside, causing him to yelp. "I said," he spoke, getting in his face, "DO…YOU…UNDERSTAND?" The "because I can always turn you back across my knee if you don't" was left out, but it was heard none the less.

Kenny winced, his a really did hurt. "Yes," he said, "all right. I understand."

MacLeod nodded and stood up. "You are going to go in that bathroom and take a shower," he ordered, pointing at the appropriate door. "While you're in there, I'll make us something to eat. After that, we're going sit down and talk about things. Go." He turned him around and gave him a little shove in that direction.

Kenny couldn't believe this. No one had treated him like this, EVER! Sure, there had been those gullible idiots whose heads he'd taken, but none of them thought to treat him like this. They were always like "you know, son" or "come on, Kenny, let me show you". Then of course, the only things the head hunters were after was his head and an easy quickening. He wasn't exactly sure WHY he was doing what the Highlander was telling him to do, but he knew he didn't want his butt to receive any more of the man's "attention".

That was it, self-preservation. He was good at that. He could take whatever the Highlander dished out.

But it still hurt like H!

_Ow!_

TBC…


	4. Dirty Laundry, Dinner, and Dishes

Highlander

Chapter 4: Dirty Laundry, Dinner, and Dishes

"MACLEOD!" Duncan heard about ten minutes later. "WHERE THE HLL ARE MY CLOTHES!"

Duncan sighed. "They were filthy," he called through the closed bathroom door to the Child Immortal within. "I'm washing them."

"So," Kenny asked, sarcastically, "what am I supposed to do. Come out there naked?"

Duncan rolled his eyes. "You could," he told him, "it wouldn't bother me, but you could also wrap a towel around your waist or I could give you one of my t-shirts to put on."

He heard the door click and a moment later the kid came out with a towel around his waist. "I don't want anything of yours," he replied, sneeringly.

Duncan shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, "but you're liable to get cold in the night."

Kenny glared at him. "I won't be here tonight," he muttered under his breath, sourly, "and neither will you."

Duncan raised an eyebrow at him. "Has your backside healed already?" he asked, pointedly. "Maybe we need to correct that."

Kenny's eyes widened and his hands flew to his behind. "No way!" he said, backing up. "You ain't gonna lay a hand on me again!"

"I will if I have to, Kenneth," Duncan told him, "and the next time I do I'll use something other than my hand. Now, either keep your mouth shut or I'll wash it out with soap."

"Fine," the Child Immortal grumbled. Just then, his stomach growled.

Duncan grinned, memories of Richie's stomach doing just that. "Obviously," he told the kid, "you're hungry. Dinner's almost ready. You can come set the table."

"Do I look like your personal bus boy?" Kenny asked him, sarcastically.

"Yes," Duncan told him firmly. "If you're gonna eat, you're going to work. Now, set the table." He pointed to where he had set out everything on counter.

Kenny glared, but did as he was told. MacLeod had been right when he said it looked like he hadn't eaten in a while. The last thing he remembered eating was an apple he'd swiped three days ago. That bstrd Karne had started hunting him right after that. Whatever the man was making to eat _did_ smell good and it was making his stomach growl even more.

"There's milk in the refrigerator," Duncan told him. "Glasses are on the rack by the sink."

"I'd rather have beer," Kenny told him, seriously.

Duncan raised an eyebrow at that. "Well," he told him, "you're just out of luck. It's either milk or water. Take your pick."

"Fine," he said, grabbing the stupid milk and two glasses, "here." He clunked them down onto the table, which earned him a glare from the Highlander.

"You break 'em," Duncan told him, "and I bust your backside. Got it?"

"Whatever," Kenny said, plopping down into a chair.

Duncan sighed. His patience was wearing thin, but he intended to get through this meal without abuse being heaped from him from his surly companion. "Let's eat," he said, bringing over the small vegetarian casserole he'd whipped together. The moment he sat it on the table, the kid scooped up a big helping of it and started wolfing it down.

"Slow down, Kenneth," he told him, "before you choke."

"It ain't like it'll kill me," Kenny told him, rolling his eyes.

"That isn't the point," Duncan told him. "It's obvious table manners will be one of the things we'll be working on."

"What's that supposed to me?" Kenny asked him, glaring.

"It means that while you are under this roof," Duncan told him, "you ARE going to learn some respect and some manners. One way or another." He leveled a pointed look at him that said quite clearly what "another" meant.

"Oh, please," Kenny groaned, sneeringly. "That may have worked on your precious Richie, MacLeod, but it ain't gonna work on me. Besides, I'm older than you. You can't tell me what to do."

Duncan's jaw tightened at the mention of his dead student, but he refused to be baited. Kenny was just trying to get a rise out of him and he wasn't going to let the kid get the upper hand on him. "You may be older as far as years are concerned," he told the kid, "but as far as maturity and experience, I am most definitely the superior."

Kenny rolled his eyes, picking his fork back up. "I'm sure that made a whole lot of sense to you," he told him, "but it sure as hll didn't to me."

"It means," Duncan told him, firmly, "that of the two of us I'M the adult. That gives me more than enough right to tell you what to do. Now then, are you finished? Do want some more?" There was still half a pan of casserole left, and he certainly wasn't going to eat it.

"I'm done," Kenny said, gulping down the last of his milk, and pushing his plate toward the Highlander.

"Good," Duncan said, grinning. "Now, go do the dishes."

"What!?" Kenny asked, outraged.

"I made dinner," Duncan told him, "so you get to clean up. Dish detergent is under the sink. Just put what's left of the casserole into the fridge. We'll reheat it tomorrow and finish it off then." He got up, walked over to the sofa, and sat down. Flipping on the television, he started watching a ball game.

Kenny glared at him.

"The longer you stand there," Duncan told him, his eyes never leaving the screen, "the longer it's going to take you because you ARE going to do the dishes. Even it takes you all night."

Growling, Kenny grabbed the dishes off the table and carried them to the sink, tossing them in it.

"Remember," Duncan called out from the sofa, "you break 'em, I bust you."

Kenny growled again.

_Just you wait, MacLeod. Tonight, you're head is mine._

"Quite thinking about chopping me into itty bitty pieces and get to work," Duncan ordered him, sternly, "unless we need to have another discussion like we had earlier."

A third growl escaped from his lips, but Kenny started doing the dishes. It took him about twenty minutes, but he got them all clean. It wouldn't have taken that long, except that the pan the casserole was in had refused to come clean. When he was done, he found that he was very tired.

Duncan looked over, saw that he was done, and shut the television off. Getting up, he walked to his dresser and pulled out a pair of his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. Handing them to the Child Immortal he said, "Here, put these on. You can wear them to bed."

"I told you I don't want anything of yours," Kenny told him, growling.

Duncan's eyes narrowed. Reaching out quickly, he snatched the towel from around the kid's waist before he could react.

"Hey!" Kenny exclaimed, his face reddening with embarrassment.

Duncan rolled his eye. "You haven't got anything I haven't seen before," he told him, bluntly. "Now you can either stand there naked or you can go put these on." He held out the offered clothes to him.

"Fine," Kenny said, snatching the clothes out of his hands. "You're gonna pay for this, MacLeod—OW!" He yelped when two sharp smacks landed on his bare behind. Rubbing it, he turned to glare at the Highlander.

"One was for the attitude," Duncan told him, crossing his arms over his chest, "and one was for being rude. Now, unless you want more you'll shut up and do as you're told."

Glaring, Kenny went to do as he was told. Coming out again, wearing the clothes, he saw that MacLeod had turned down his bed. "The boxers are too big," he grumbled at the man, sourly.

Duncan shrugged. "So," he said, "you're only going to be sleeping in them. Come hop in." He gestured to his bed.

"I'm not sleeping with you!" Kenny growled at him.

Duncan resisted rolling his eyes, but just barely. "You aren't," he told him. "I'm going to take the couch."

"You didn't the last time," Kenny reminded him. "If I remember, you told me you weren't about to give up your bed."

Duncan shrugged. "Things change," he told him. "Now, in."

Sighing, Kenny got in and pulled the covers over his eyes. Putting his left arm behind his head, he closed his eyes…only to open them again when he heard something go click. MacLeod had handcuffed him to the metal bed post. "I knew I couldn't trust you, MacLeod!" he shouted at the man, yanking at the handcuffs. "You bstrd!"

Ducan glared at him. "Actually," he told him, "at the moment its YOU I don't trust. Those are to ensure that you not only stay put, but you don't try anything either. And don't bother attempting to break them, their titanium steel; and trying to pick the lock won't do any good, either. Those are Amanda's 'trick' hand cuffs that only a key can unlock. Now shut up, and go to sleep." He turned off the lamp and then headed into the bathroom to take a shower himself and get ready for bed.

Kenny struggled against the hand cuffs for a while, but fatigue got to him in the end and he ended falling asleep.

Duncan grinned at the slumbering Child Immortal.

_I wonder why it is that they look like such peaceful angels when their asleep but are such hellions when their awake!_

He remembered his mother once saying, "Aye, 'tis why the Good Lord makes 'um lovable. So ya don' go killin' in whilst their sleepin'!" He had thought it silly then, considering it was he was talking about, but now he could understand it.

Sighing, wondering how so many things could happen in only a handful of hours; he grabbed the other pillow off the bed and lay down on the sofa. He too was soon sleeping peacefully.

He hope it lasted.

TBC…


	5. Time to Stop Pretending

Highlander

Chapter 5: Time to Stop Pretending

Duncan awoke sometime in the middle of the night to sounds of thrashing and groaning coming from his bed. Getting up off the sofa he made his way over there to find one Child Immortal in the grips of what appeared to be a serious nightmare.

"No!" Kenny was mumbling his sleep. "Mama! Papa! No, don't leave me! I'll be good! I-I promise! J-Just don't leave me!"

The boy was thrashing around so badly now that Duncan feared he was going to rip the arm handcuffed to the bed out of its socket. "Kenneth!" he said, shaking the boy. "Wake up! You're dreaming!"

Kenny's eyes flew open and he looked up at the Highlander in confusion. "What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes wide with fear and mistrust.

Duncan sighed. "You were having a nightmare," he told him.

Kenny snorted. "Don't be stupid, MacLeod," he said. "Immortals don't have nightmares."

Now it was Duncan's turn to snort. "I wish that were true," he told him, "but we most definitely do have them and you were most definitely HAVING one just now. Do you want to talk about it?" He crossed his arms over his bare chest and stared down at the boy inquiringly.

"No," Kenny said, angrily, "I don't. I want you to unlock these dmn hand cuffs and let me go!" He jerked his captured arm ruthlessly.

Duncan shook his head. "I told you, Kenneth," he said, sternly, "you're not going anywhere."

"Why the HLL not!?" Kenny asked him. "You don't even like me, MacLeod!"

"You've haven't exactly ever given me a reason TO like you, Kennth," Duncan told him, bluntly. "Trying to take a person's head isn't exactly the way to endure yourself to them."

"There can be only one," Kenny told him. "Remember that?"

"Of course I remember it," Duncan said, "but there are plenty of Immortals out there who live their lives without being head hunters."

"There stupid then," Kenny told him. "They don't deserve the prize."

"What makes you think you do?" Duncan asked him, honestly curious.

Kenny just shrugged. "Because maybe when I win," he said, "I'll finally get to grow up."

Why had he said that? He hadn't ever told anyone that before? What was happening to him?

Duncan raised an eyebrow. So _that_ was it. Kenny believed that the ultimate prize would make him mortal so that he could at last grow up. No wonder the kid was trying so hard to be the last. It didn't excuse his actions, but at least they made more sense now.

Sitting down at the bed, he eyed the boy intently. "You need to stop worrying about the future," he told him, "and quit reliving in the past. It's the here and now you need to concern yourself with. You've spent the last eight hundred years 'surviving', Kenny, instead of living. It time you allowed yourself a chance to be something you've never been before."

"What's that?" Kenny asked, only slightly sneeringly.

"To be a kid," Duncan told him. "You've spent so much time 'pretending' to be one that you've actually forgotten how to actually be one."

"I don't want to be a kid," Kenny told him, angrily.

Duncan nodded. "I know," he said, "but that doesn't change the fact that you ARE one. You need to accept that, once and for all. That's why you're going to stay here because I'm not going to let you keep running anymore."

"Why do you care so much?" Kenny asked, genuinely. "I tried to axe you twice, remember?"

Duncan looked toward the pictures of Tessa and Richie. "Because," he said, quietly, "this might be a third chance for the both of us. Now, go back to sleep."

"Will you take the hand-cuffs off?" Kenny asked him.

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Will you give me your word that you won't try to leave?" he asked, sternly.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "If I do," he said, "you can take my head."

Duncan grinned. "It won't be your head I'll aim for," he promised him, "or be my sword in my hand at the time. Got it?" He unlocked the hand cuffs.

Kenny rubbed his wrist. "Yeah, MacLeod," he said, "I get it."

Duncan eyed him sternly. "You had better," he warned, darkly. "Now, lay back down."

Kenny did so, and was surprised when the Highlander pulled the covers up over him. "You really are a sap, MacLeod," he told him, as his eyes began to close and he began to drift back to sleep.

Duncan smiled at that. "And you're really a brat," he told him, gently.

Going back to the sofa, he didn't lay down yet. Not entirely trusting that the boy was actually asleep, and the fact that he was WIDE awake now, he decided to sit up for a while. Grabbing the picture of Richie from the table, he stared at the smiling face of the boy he'd loved like a son for five years.

_Yes, Rich, maybe this really is another chance for me. I won't—I can't—fail again. _

_I promise._

TBC…


	6. Morning

Highlander

Chapter 6: Morning

Duncan awoke when sunlight from the window poured all over his face. He had finally fallen asleep, once he was certain the brat was really asleep also, and there had been no more nightmares. Looking towards the bed, he found (surprisingly) that the Child Immortal was still asleep.

Getting up, he stretched. The sofa was nice to sit on, but it most definitely wasn't good for sleeping. Grabbing some clean clothes and underwear, he headed into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Coming out, he started making breakfast. As he did so, he started thinking about things.

If he was going to be keeping Kenny around, the boy was going to need his own bed, possibly even his own room; he did have the one small bedroom that Richie had used whenever he'd stayed over. They could always convert that into a room for the brat.

Then, there was the boy's serious lack of clothes. They most definitely needed to go shopping today for him some clean things. It probably wouldn't hurt to go grocery shopping, either. He still had to decide whether he was going to re-open the dojo or take that teaching position. He still had a couple of days to decide, though, so he figured he wait on that one.

Rustling from the bed alerted him to the fact that his "little" problem was awake. Kenny groaned, got out of bed, and made his way over to the kitchen. The smells of breakfast were what had awakened him in the first place, after all.

Duncan turned around and had to try very hard not to laugh. The kid's hair was all over the place, he was bleary eyed, and looked every inch the grumpy ten years old he appeared to be. He was also missing something.

"Uh," he said, grinning, "I think you may have lost something." He pointed down.

Kenny looked down, his face reddening with embarrassment. The boxer shorts the Highlander had given him the night before to wear were no longer there; he must have wriggled out of them sometime in the night without knowing it. He glared at the man, his face flaming.

"I told you they were too big," he grumbled, sourly.

Duncan chuckled. "It's okay," he told him. "I'm sure your clothes are dry by now. They're hanging just inside the alcove there." He pointed to the door leading to the stairs.

Kenny went and got them. They were indeed dry. "Go put them on," Duncan told him, "and then come set the table for breakfast."

Kenny glared, but did as he was told. He came back out, dressed in his old clothes. He felt much better, sort of. He was tempted to make a break for it, but remembered what the Highlander said would happen if he tried it. His butt may have completely healed, but the memory of that spanking was still very fresh in his mind. He had no desire to repeat the experience any time soon…or at all, for that matter.

Setting the table, he flopped down into a chair to wait for it to be ready.

"You don't just have to sit there," Duncan told him. "You could go watch television if you wanted."

Kenny snorted at that. "What am I supposed to watch, MacLeod?" he asked, sneering. "Saturday morning cartoons?"

Duncan frowned. The boy's habit of answering him with sarcasm was starting to grate on his nerves, but he'd wait a little while longer before he did anything about it. He'd give him enough rope just to hang himself with.

"It was just a thought," he told him, shrugging. "If you don't want to, you don't have to."

He brought over the plate of eggs he'd made and put some on the kid's plate and then on his own.

Going to the refrigerator, he got the jug of orange juice he'd made before starting the eggs out and brought it to the table. He didn't fail to notice Kenny eyeing it with distain.

"Would you rather have milk?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I told you last night what I liked to drink," Kenny told him, smirking.

Duncan gritted his teeth. Oh yes, they would definitely be having another 'discussion' soon. "I told you last night its juice, milk, or water?" he told him, patiently.

"Fine," Kenny said, grabbing the juice jug and pouring him a glass of it.

After they had finished, he instructed the boy to just put the dishes in the sink. "You can wash them later," he told him. He went and grabbed his coat, the one with his katana in it.

"Where are you going?" Kenny asked him, genuinely curious.

"_We_ are going shopping," Duncan told him. "You need a bed to sleep on so I can have mine back, you need some new clothes, and we also need to pick up some groceries. Let's go."

Kenny stood rooted to the spot. "You're actually serious," he said, surprised. "About keeping me here?"

Duncan nodded. "Yes, I am," he said. "Now, come on. Remember? You try to run and I'll blister you backside right then and there. I don't care _who_'s there to see it. Got it?" He leveled a very pointed look at the boy.

Kenny nodded, his face reddening. "Yeah, MacLeod," he said, sullenly. "I got it."

"You had better," Duncan promised darkly. "Now, let's go." He turned the kid around and gave him a little push towards the lift.

He had a feeling today was going to be a LONG day.

TBC…


	7. Discussion with a Belt

Highlander

(A.N: Brief spanking scene with a belt in this chapter. Don't like. Don't read.)

Chapter 7: Discussion with a Belt

The ride to the mall was a silent one. Neither of the two Immortals spoke. Duncan kept his eyes on the road and Kenny kept his out the passenger side window.

_Why am I doing this? Why haven't I made a break for it, yet? MacLeod's a jack-a!_

The Child Immortal was a little confused. For eight hundred years, his strategy had always been the same. Play the innocent, lure in the gullible, and take their heads. It had worked, for the most part, until six years ago when he'd tried it on the man sitting beside him.

The second time he'd run into MacLeod, he'd been running from a head hunter. MacLeod had let him stay with him, reluctantly. Amanda came and complicated things even more, and then he ran. It seemed like that's all he did. He ran. It had kept him alive for eight centuries, but as the Gathering drew nearer it was getting harder and harder to run from the likes of Karne.

Maybe he should just stay with MacLeod, after all. It was widely known that the younger of the two Highlanders had an honor code a mile long, and he'd protect those who couldn't protect themselves. It was also known he'd killed his own student.

_Amanda threatened to kill me…_

Of course, he HAD handcuffed her lover and was about to take his head at the time, so maybe that was understandable.

He was so confused.

"Do that too much," MacLeod voice interrupted his musing, "and you're head will explode."

Kenny looked at him. "What?" he asked, rudely.

MacLeod raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't say anything. "You're thinking loudly," he told him. "Want to talk about it?"

Kenny rolled his eyes. "No, actually," he said, coldly, "I don't. Now, shut up and leave me the H alone!"

MacLeod swerved off the road so quickly, his head bounced against the passenger window. Rubbing his head, he glared at the man. "Have you lost you're D mind, MacLeod!" he yelled at the man.

MacLeod's face looked like a thunder-clap. Getting out of the car, he stalked around to the passenger side door and yanked him out of the car. Before he could protest this, he found himself lifted and bent over the hood of the T-Bird.

**SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!**

"OW!" Kenny yelped as eight very sharp smacks caused a burning sensation in his backside. "Stop it, MacLeod! That hurts!"

"I warned you about your mouth, Kenneth," MacLeod told him. "The sarcasm, the disrespect, and the swearing are all going to stop right here and now." There was the sound of a belt being pulled from its loops and then…

**CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!**

Kenny gasped. He had thought MacLeod's hand hurt, but this HURT! Those first smacks of the belt had left is backside burning.

"I'm sorry!" he shocked himself saying. "I'm sorry, MacLeod!" Tears stung his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away.

"You're gonna be," MacLeod promised, darkly. He raised his belt back one more time.

**CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!**

Kenny couldn't stop the tears now. He was actually crying! Over a spanking! He heard MacLeod put his belt back on and then felt himself lifted off the hood. He stood before the angry Highlander looking every inch of the chastised child he appeared to be.

"I mean it, Kenneth," he told him, sternly. "It stops. Now. If we have to have another 'discussion' about this again, you'll not only get my belt you'll get it bare. Do you understand me?" He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at the kid.

Kenny sniffed, angry at himself for acting this way. Reaching back to rub his throbbing backside, he nodded. "Yes," he said, "I understand."

"Yes, what?" MacLeod said, raising an eyebrow.

Kenny glared at him. "Yes, _sir,_" he growled out between clenched teeth.

MacLeod nodded. "Now get back in the car," he ordered, watching him closely.

Kenny obeyed, wincing when his butt touched the seat.

MacLeod shut the door, and walked back around to the driver's side. Getting in, he started the T-Bird up and continued on to the mall. Looking over at the sullen Child Immortal, he couldn't help but grin.

_Well, I certainly feel better even if he doesn't._

TBC…


	8. Food for Thought

Highlander

Chapter 8: Food for Thought

Duncan pulled the T-Bird into the parking lot of the nearest mall. After turning off the ignition, he looked at the still sulking child Immortal beside him. "We need to go over a few rules before we go in there," he told him, pointing to the large building.

Kenny glared at him, still miffed about the "paddling" he'd received. "It's shopping," he said, rolling his eyes. "What's there to go over. We go in, get what we need, and get out."

Duncan's jaw clenched. "Do we need to have another discussion already?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Kenny winced, his butt hadn't quite healed completely yet. "No," he said, then added hastily, "Sir." He hated have to say that, but he certainly didn't want anymore of the man's undivided "attention".

Duncan nodded, at least the kid knew when to shut it. "Good," he said, "but there are three rules you're to follow while we're in there. 1. No leaving my side for any reason. 2. No swearing at me or anyone else. 3. Absolutely no attitude or disrespect. Break these rules and you already know what will happen…and I might drag you into the bathroom to do it either. So keep that in mind."

Kenny glared at him. "Can't you just trust me?" he asked him, sourly.

Duncan leveled him with a pointed look. "No," he said, firmly, "I can't…at least not yet. Maybe eventually I can, but it's going to take a while, Kenneth. I nearly lost my head twice because I trusted you to behave, and you didn't. This time, all bets are off. I might not take your head, but I certainly will blister your eight hundred year old A if you give me a reason to…and you've already given me more than enough reason to."

Kenny glowered at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why won't you just let me leave?" he asked, refusing to budge yet. "You don't like me. I don't like you. You don't trust me. I don't trust you. So, what's the point?"

Duncan sighed. "The point is," he said, "you need to accept once and for all that you ARE a child, Kenny. You may be eight hundred years old chronologically, but you're body and emotions are those of a ten year old; and they always will be. Yes, at the moment, I may not trust you but I DO like you. Or rather, I find traits within you that I admire."

That surprised Kenny. "You do?" he asked. "Like what?"

"Like your determination for one," Duncan told him, honestly. "You're stubborn, but you understand what you want and you go for it. Yes, I fill the WAY you are going for it is very, very wrong and I'm hoping to change that, but I still respect the fact that you are determined to survive and aren't willing to simply lay down and die. I also think you're very resourceful, which I also respect; you could just stand to be resourceful in a different way other than using you're innocent looking face as a ruse to take heads."

"Why should I?" Kenny asked him, stubbornly.

Duncan looked at him. "Because if you don't," he told him, bluntly, "you're no better than those head hunters who come after you."

Kenny didn't like hearing that. He was trying to win the Game, not score easy Quickenings. There WAS a difference. Wasn't it? He was really confused now. "Let's just go and get this over with," he growled at the Highlander.

Duncan nodded, knowing the boy was frustrated because he was being forced to actually consider his actions and how they affect him and others. "Remember the rules," he ordered, sternly, "unless…"

"I know," Kenny said, unbuckling his seat belt, "you'll blister my A 'til I can't sit down no more."

Duncan grinned. "You'd best be believin' it too, laddie," he said, allowing a bit of his accent to show.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "You really are a dork, MacLeod," he said, getting out of the car.

"And you're still a brat," Duncan replied, also getting out of the car.

Together, the two Immortals headed for the entrance of the mall.

TBC…


	9. Shopping with a Child Immortal

Highlander

Chapter 9: Shopping with a Child Immortal

The mall wasn't too grounded, for which Duncan was extremely thankful. Upon entering, he realized he had never—not once in his four hundred years—gone shopping with a child. Well, okay, he had dragged Richie to buy odds and ends every once in a while, but he was an older teenager and could pretty much choose for himself…not that he rather liked being dragged to a shopping mall by an adult anymore than Kenny did.

An ache of grief and regret pierced his heart. _How I miss that kid!_

Shaking it off, he decided to do what he did best and go on the offensive. Dragging Kenny along behind him, he headed into the nearest clothing store and asked one of the clerks to direct him to a shop that sold children's clothes. She directed him to the _Goody's_ store that was not too far down. He thanked her and dragged his "hostage" away with him.

"You can let go, MacLeod," Kenny growled at him. "It ain't like I'm going to try and run or anything."

"Oh, I guarantee that," Duncan replied back, amused. "However, I'm not taking any chances, Kenneth."

Kenny glared at him, and he simply smirked. He then dragged his little eight hundred year old butt into the store and headed straight for the boy's section. Glancing around at the, not surprising, number of mothers with even more sullen looking boys than the Child Immortal beside him, he decided to go for the pants first.

Going to a rack, he first looked Kenny up and down to get an estimate of his waist and length. Grabbing a pair of jeans, he measured them up to the boy. "Um," he said, "maybe, but let's try a size bigger."

Kenny snorted. "Why?" he growled. "It ain't like I'm gonna grow or anything."

Duncan shrugged. "You want them to be a little loose," he told him. "They're more comfortable that way." Kenny just snorted again at this.

Duncan again smirked and pulled a smaller size. He then grabbed the sullen kid by the collar and pulled him over to the dressing rooms. Handing him the two pair of jeans, he ordered, "In, and then let me see after you get 'em on."

"I can choose things for myself, MacLeod," Kenny growled at him. "I'm not a baby, after all."

Duncan's eyes narrowed. "I still will won't to double check," he told him, firmly. "Of course, I _could_ always come in there with you…" He smirked, knowing the reaction that would get.

Kenny turned beat red in embarrassment. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'll come out and show you."

"Good," Duncan said, smugly, "now scoot." He turned him around and gave him a little shove.

Kenny muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "bastard". He jumped a second later when Duncan landed a sharp smack to his backside. He turned around to the man, wide eyed.

Duncan pointed an admonishing finger at him. "That was your only warning," he told him, sternly, "now get in there and no more complaining."

Kenny scowled, but obeyed.

A deep chuckle drew Duncan's attention behind him. He was surprised to see another man, probably around his "appearing" age (between 35 and 40) laughing. "Kids, huh?" the man said, shaking his head in amusement. "If you're not wanting to strangle them you're resisting the urge to tan their behinds."

Duncan sighed. "You have no idea," he said, jerking his thumb toward the dressing room door. "That one is quite the handful."

"Try having three of them," the man told him, smiling. "One fifteen, one twelve, and one nine. That's the one I'm here with and waiting to come out of the dressing room. His mom had to work so she gave me school shopping duty."

Duncan chuckled. "You must have the patience of a saint," he commented, impressed.

"Not really," the man said. "I've just learned to pick my battles…and having a wooden paddle to remind even the oldest one he isn't quite as old as he thinks he is helps, too."

Duncan laughed at that, and was about to say something when Kenny came back out. "Happy now?" the boy asked, putting on a put upon expression.

Duncan examined the jeans. They fit the boy just fine, but it wouldn't hurt to try on the other pair too. "All right," he told him, "now go on the other pair."

Kenny sighed, glared, but obeyed. This time without sarcastic comments.

"So," the man he'd been talking to asked, "did your wife put you up to this?"

"I'm not married," Duncan told him, truthfully. "Kenny's…well…adopted."

"You took the kid in all alone?" the man asked, surprised and amazed.

Duncan nodded. "He has no where and no one else," he told him. "He'd already been on the street and gotten into some trouble. I had to do something." He shrugged, nonchalantly.

"Wow, man," the other man said, still seemingly awed, "that's something. You're a braver man than me, that's for sure."

Duncan just shook his head. "Let's just say I've been accused of being a "Father Flanagan" type before," he told him, smirking.

"Well," the man said, "here comes your little orphan Andy now and right behind him is my Johnny."

Duncan turned to find Kenny coming out of the dressing room and another boy came out right behind him and headed straight for the man he'd been speaking to. He walked back to the child Immortal to give him and his son some privacy.

"Do they fit?" he asked, noticing the boy had both pairs in his hands.

Kenny blushed. "They fell off," he told him, grumpily.

"That's all right," Duncan told him, "we'll get a few more pairs in the size that fit and then get shirts, socks, and underwear." Again, the boy blushed and Duncan chuckled.

They left the store with three pairs of jeans, three t-shirts (all black because Kenny wouldn't have anything else), a package of sacks, and a package of briefs.

"Why those?" Kenny had asked him, blushing and glaring at the same time.

"It's a little hard to wriggle out of these," Duncan told him, reminding him of this morning. The boy had blushed even more, and he chuckled as he'd steered him to the cash register.

"Let's head to the furniture store and see what they have by way of beds," he told the boy, who was carrying all the bags.

"Why am I carrying these?" the boy grumbled as he followed behind him.

"Because they're your clothes," Duncan told him, "and it's kind of hard to run with a lot of bags in your hand."

"Not if I dropped 'em before I ran," the child Immortal retorted, smirking.

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "You do," he told him, sternly, "and you'll get your backside blistered right here in the middle of the mall."

"It was just a joke, MacLeod," Kenny grumbled. "Lighten up, will ya?"

Duncan snorted. "Look who's talking," he retorted back, steering him into the furniture store at the other end of the mall.

It took them a while in here, as they couldn't agree on a bed to get. Kenny didn't seem to care, but whenever Duncan chose something he said he didn't like it. They had gone through all the beds that would be the right size for the kid, when Duncan's patience ran out.

"Pick one," he growled dangerously at the boy, "now!"

Kenny's eyes widened, but he quickly recovered. "Fine," he growled back. "That one." He pointed to a black iron framed bed with a dark blue bedspread on it.

Duncan went over and checked the price. It was reasonable, so he decided to get it. He paid for the bed and the bedspread and gave the clerk the address so that they both could be delivered. He was told they'd arrive in about two days as they had to be shipped in from their country warehouse.

_Looks like I'm gonna be spending two more nights on the sofa. Great!_

They headed out of the store and out of the mall. Duncan checked his watch and saw that it was noon. "You hungry?" he asked Kenny, who had gone very quiet all of a sudden.

"I guess," the boy told him, reluctantly.

Duncan nodded. "All right then," he said. "Let's drop the bags back at the loft and go get something."

Kenny just nodded. They stowed the bags in the back of the T-Bird and climbed in. They were soon headed back to the loft.

Duncan glanced at the child Immortal beside him. The boy looked like he was deep in thought.

_Maybe he's finally figuring things out, I sure hope so._

TBC…


	10. A Visitor

Highlander

Chapter 10: An Unexpected Visitor

They got back to the loft and the moment they entered the building they both sensed the presence of another Immortal.

"Expecting anyone?" Kenny asked his eyes wide.

Duncan's eyes were narrowed. "No," he stated, his voice hard. "Are you?" He looked down at the boy, raising an eyebrow at him.

Kenny shook his head, fiercely. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "Who'd I'd be expecting?"

Duncan just shook his head. "Stay here," he growled. "I mean it."

Kenny snorted. "Where'd I go?" he asked, sneeringly.

Duncan turned back around, a stern look on his face. "Kenneth," he growled, "if you move from that spot I promise that you will not sit for a week when I'm done with you!"

Kenny just held up his hands. "Hey," he said, "don't sweat it, MacLeod. You're the one who wants to go risking his head. Not me."

Duncan smirked. "Don't be worrying about my head," he told him, "be worrying about your butt."

Kenny huffed. "Go on already," he told him, snorting.

Duncan nodded, his katana appearing from under his coat, "I'll be right back." He headed upstairs.

Kenny waited, listening intently. _If I had any sense I'd be out the door by now, _he thought, _so why am I still here?_

Why? Oh, well, maybe because MacLeod would roast his ass once he caught up with him. Was that a good enough reason to risk his head?

_Hell, yeah!_

The lift sounded and MacLeod raised the gate. "C'mon," he said, gesturing with his head, "and bring the bags."

"Who is up there?" he asked, curious. "Amanda?"

MacLeod shook his head. "Nope, thank goodness," he said, smirking, "because then it'd be _my_ butt and _your_ head on the line. No, this is an even older friend than her. His name's Methos."

Kenny dropped the bags. "The oldest Immortal!" he exclaimed. "No, st!"

Duncan growled, "Kenneth!"

Kenny frowned. "What?" he asked, innocently.

"You know what," Duncan growled. "Unless you want your mouth scoured with soap, you'll watch the mouth." To emphasize his point, he gave him a swat on the butt when he bent down to pick up the bags.

"Hey!" Kenny yelped, dropping the bags he had just picked up again. "Ow!" He rubbed his stinging posterior.

"That was your only warning," Duncan told him, bending down to help pick up the bags.

Once all the bags were retrieved, they headed up to the loft. Getting out, they found a tall man with a somewhat large nose waiting for them.

"Well, well," he said, in a clipped British accent, "so this is the infamous Child Immortal that lures unsuspecting gullible fools in with his innocent looking face and then takes their heads while their backs were turned. From the Watchers descriptions, I expected a cherub without wings."

Kenny narrowed. "Watch it, gramps," he told him. "I'm eight hundred years old."

"So?" Methos asked, snorting. "Even at that age you'd be an infant compared to me, boy—and that's if you were an adult. For Immortals, kid, age is irrelevant. Its maturity and experience, as well as actions, that make you what you are and all the above for you have only proved that you are still—in everyway—a little boy. MacLeod has always had a soft spot for kids, which you should be grateful for. I'd have just cut off your head and been done with it."

Kenny's eyes widened at that blunt statement and took a step back, right into Duncan.

The Highlander's arm came around him. "He doesn't mean it, Kenny," he said, scowling at the older Immortal. "Methos has this little problem that flares up every now and again—it's called being an ass."

Methos laughed. "What can I say, MacLeod?" he said. "You got stuck at the mature age of thirty-five, while I was only twenty."

"Uh huh," Duncan said, scowling. "When I was twenty, my father still didn't hesitate to take his strap to me if I got out of hand."

Methos smirked. "Are you threatening me?" he asked, good naturedly. "After everything I've done for you."

Duncan snorted. "Like I give a damn, Methos," he told him. "You mind your manners or I won't hesitate to treat you like my da treated me."

Methos grabbed his heart. "I'm wounded," he stated, heading into the kitchen. "Got any beer." He opened the refrigerator.

"As a matter of fact," Duncan said, rolling his eyes, "no, I don't. You can have water."

Methos wrinkled his nose at that. "Water is entirely unhealthy," he said, sitting on a stool.

Duncan snorted again. "Most doctors would disagree with you," he told him, handing the bags to Kenny. "Go put these over there, while I make sure our guest doesn't get waist away."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said, and then whispered, "He is always like this?"

Duncan smirked. "Pretty much," he told him. "He only shows his real age on certain occasions, the rest of the time he's worse than a teenager."

Kenny nodded and did as he was told, for once.

Duncan walked over and leaned on the counter. "Just what are doing here, Methos?" he asked the oldest living Immortal.

Methos shrugged. "Can't I visit an old friend?" he asked, smirking.

Duncan snorted. "No, you can't," he said, "and would you stop it. I already have one immature Immortal to deal with. I don't need two."

Methos sighed. "We've all been worried about you, Mac," he told him, honestly. "I mean, a year now and not a word from you. I know what you said, about it being for the best, but that doesn't stop your friends from worrying. Even Amanda was worried, even though she has her hands full with this mortal cop of hers."

Duncan nodded. "I didn't mean to worry anyone," he admitted, "and I really don't know why I came back here."

Methos smirked. "You know what they say," he said, "home is where your heart is and your heart has always been here—even if those you loved are buried in France."

A pained look came across Duncan's face, memories of happier times flitting through his mind.

"Sorry, ole boy," Methos said, wincing.

Duncan just sighed. "No," he said, "it's been two years, and Richie would not have wanted me to wallow in grief for eternity. Besides, I need all my strength to keep Kenny in line."

"Hey," the aforementioned immature Immortal spoke up.

Duncan shrugged. "It's true," he told him, "and you know it."

Kenny snorted. "Just because I don't play by your rules, MacLeod," he said, smirking.

"Oh, you most definitely better play by my rules, young man," Duncan told him, smirking, "unless you'd like a sore rear—and that goes for you, too." He said, turning around to catch Methos in mid-mimic.

The oldest Immortal had the most comical expression on his face that all three burst out laughing so hard that Duncan actually had to go to the bathroom because he was about pee his pants.

When he realized what he was doing, Kenny stopped and just stared. What was he doing? Here he was actually smiling and _laughing_ with MacLeod! What was happening to him?

"You okay, kid?" Methos asked, grinning.

Kenny shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said, honestly.

"You should give him a chance, you know," the older Immortal stated. "MacLeod, I mean. He may be the world's oldest Boy Scout, but still he has a lot of good points too. I'd trust him with my life, and have in more than one occasion." He shrugged, then headed towards the bathroom as they heard toilet flush.

Apparently, he'd already been drinking a few beers already.

Duncan came out and he went in. "Why don't we start getting that room ready for you?" he suggested, giving the boy's shoulder a squeeze.

Kenny just nodded. "All right," he said, feeling something unusual shift inside him.

Maybe it _was_ time to trust someone.

And that someone was Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

TBC…


	11. A Quiet Evening At Home

Chapter 11: A Quiet Evening At Home

Kenny sat and listened the rest of the afternoon while MacLeod and Methos caught up.

As they sat eating supper, he watched them closely. It was obvious that they were truly friends; which he thought was odd.

For eight hundred years, he hadn't trusted another living soul. He had looked out for himself just like Amanda had taught him to, but with the Gathering drawing closer it was getting harder and harder to keep head hunters at bay.

_Maybe if I someone like MacLeod looking out for me,_ he thought, _it might be easier to stay alive._

Of course, that meant putting up with the man's rules and the consequences if he should break those rules.

_Which would you rather have? A spanking or a beheading?_

Okay, so there wasn't really any uncertainity there. Of course, he'd sooner have his behind smarting for a little while rather than be dead…but it was still humiliating. He was eight hundred years old, for pity's sake!

Of course, Methos' philosophy that with Immortals it was maturity and experience that counted rather than age did make a whole lot of sense. A forty year old man could become Immortal tomorrow and still be more of an adult than him.

"Kenny?" MacLeod's voice interrupted his musings. "You okay?"

Kenny looked at him, realizing he had no idea what had been said in the last ten minutes or so.

"Uh, yeah," he said, hesitantly, "I was just thinking."

"Don't think too hard," Methos quipped, smirking. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

MacLeod rolled his eyes and slapped him upside the head. Kenny grinned at that.

"Ow," the oldest Immortal exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"Being an ass again," MacLeod told him, smirking. "You really need to work on that, you know."

"Ha, ha," Methos said. "It was just a joke."

"Some jokes are better off left unsaid," MacLeod told him, firmly. "Now, how about you getting off your five thousand year old butt and washing the dishes."

"But I'm a guest," Methos protested. "Guests aren't supposed to wash dishes."

"I cooked," MacLeod told him, "and Kenny set the table. Therefore, _you_ get to clean up."

"Humph," Methos grumbled, getting up and gathering up their plates. "Is he always such a slave driver?"

Kenny smirked. "Yeah," he told him.

"Hey," MacLeod said, "that's enough out of you, unless you want to dry the dishes after he washes them."

"No thanks," Kenny said, "he's more than welcome to it."

"Chicken," Methos teased, heading for the sick.

MacLeod shook his head. "Why don't you go ahead and get a shower?" he suggested. "You can try out those new pjs we got for you today."

Kenny nodded. "All right," he said, quietly. He went over to where he'd put the shopping bags they had brought in earlier and grabbed the stuff he would need. He then headed into the bathroom. A few minutes later, the shower started running.

Duncan sighed, and gathered up the rest of the dishes from the table to carry them to the sink.

"Are you sure about what you're doing?" Methos asked him, seriously. "I mean, he has tried to kill you twice."

"I know," Duncan told him, "but I think its more than time someone gave him a chance to prove himself something other than a little bastard."

Methos nodded. "That might be true, Mac," he told him, "but could this be more about Richie than him?"

Duncan scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, angrily. "This has nothing to do with Richie?"

"Doesn't it?" Methos asked. "You failed once, and you want to prove to yourself you won't fail again."

Duncan looked like he might hit for a moment but then sighed. "Maybe," he said, "but to be perfectly honest…that kid is the only thing keeping me from going off and beheading myself."

Methos reached out with a soapy and placed it on his shoulder. "You still have your friends, Mac," he reminded him.

"I know that, Methos," Duncan told him, "but it's not the same. Tessa was my world and when I lost her, Richie became my world. Without them, I don't feel complete."

"Do you feel complete with Kenneth around?" Methos asked, curiously.

"I'm not sure yet," Duncan told him. "All I know is right now there's a little boy he needs me and for better or worse I'm going to do everything I can for him."

Methos shook his head. "You really are an eternal boy scout," he told him, flicking soapy water at him.

"Hey!" Duncan said, grabbing up a towel and flicking it at his behind.

"Ouch," Methos said, grabbing his left butt cheek. "That stings."

Duncan grinned. "Serves you right," he told him. "Now, get back to work."

Methos grinned. "Yes, oh lord and master," he said. He turned back to washing the dishes.

Duncan grinned. Richie used to call him that whenever he would get too bossy.

_Ah, Rich,_ he thought, _I'd give anything to be able to hear you call me that one more time._

He walked over to the window and gazed out. Up in the night sky, he watched as a star slowly streaked across the sky.

He closed his eyes and made a wish. _I wish I had my family back…_

"You okay?" Kenny asked him, having come out of the bathroom with his head still wet.

Duncan looked at him and grinned. "Didn't anyone teach you to dry your head before you put your clothes on?" he asked, gently.

Kenny shrugged. "What's the difference?" he asked. "It ain't like I can catch a cold."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Hand me that towel?" he said, reaching for the towel the boy still held in his hand.

Kenny handed it over and he started rubbing the boy's wet head with it. "Hey!" the Child Immortal protested. "Cut that out!"

"Nope," Duncan said, "I don't think so." He rubbed faster.

"MacLeod," Kenny growled, once he was done and his hair was sticking up all over the place. "You're so dead!"

Duncan smirked. "You have to catch me first," he taunted, flicking the towel at the boy.

Methos whistled. "Here, kid," he said, tossing the boy a wet dish towel. "Can't do battle without a weapon."

"Hey," Duncan exclaimed. "Who's side are you on?"

"Not yours," Methos told him, smirking.

Kenny caught the towel and then started chasing Duncan around the living room. They each tried to hit the other with their towels. Unfortunately, because his towel and arm was longer, Duncan tended to hit him more frequently.

Around and around they went, until they were both out of breath. They collapsed onto the sofa, laughing.

"T-That was fun," Kenny said, trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah," Duncan agreed, smiling at him. "It sure was." He reached over and pulled the boy closer to him, leaving his arm draped around his shoulders.

Kenny glanced at the arm holding him to the other Immortal's side and found it…strangely…comforting.

"How about we watch some TV?" Duncan suggested. "I think there's a ball game on tonight."

"I'll go buy us beer and pretzels," Methos said, grabbing his coat. He headed out the door before another word could be said.

"I think he was just trying to get out of finishing the dishes," Kenny said, grinning.

Duncan nodded. "Me, too," he said, "but he cans always finishing them when he gets back."

"What if he refuses?" Kenny asked, curiously.

"Then he won't get any beer and pretzels," Duncan told him, smirking.

"Be he's the one buying them," Kenny reminded him.

"So?" Duncan said, shrugging. "It's my house." He smirked at him.

Kenny smirked back. "You're evil, MacLeod," he told him, chuckling.

"Thank you," Duncan said, smiling. "I try."

Kenny just sighed.

_Yeah, maybe I will give him a chance after all._

TBC…

(A.N I know I don't update this story as much as I do some of my others, but leaving me negative review isn't exactly going to inspire me to write. So, be nice. Thanks.)


	12. A Wish Granted

Chapter 12: A Wish Granted

That night, after both Methos and Kenny had fallen asleep on the sofa, Duncan lay down in his bed and closed his eyes.

He dreamed…

_He was in the old Antique Store, the place he'd been the happiest in his four hundred years._

"_Hey, Mac," Ritchie greeted him, smiling._

"_Richie," he whispered, feeling his chest tighten at the sight of the boy. Tears welled in his eyes._

"_Ah, Mac," Richie said, "don't. It wasn't your fault."_

"_How can you say that?" Duncan asked him, angrily. "I killed you!" _

_He dropped to his knees, heartbroken._

"_Hey, Big Guy," Richie said, kneeling down in front of him, "it wasn't your fault. You were being screwed with…besides, you told me not to go there, remember?"_

_Duncan nodded. Of course, he remembered. "Why didn't you listen to me?"_

_Richie smirked, shrugged. "When did I ever listen when you said 'stay put'?" he asked him._

_Duncan glared at him. "I should have tanned your hide after each and every one of those times," he growled, suddenly angry at the kid. _

_Richie nodded. "Probably," he said, grinning. _

_Duncan smiled back, but then sobered. How could he be laughing? "I'm sorry, Rich," he sobbed, "so sorry!"_

"_Hey," Richie said, wrapping his arms around him, "I should have paid more attention to those 'duck and cover' lessons you tried to give. It's okay."_

_Duncan shook his head. "No, it's not," he said, scrubbing at his face. "You're gone! You and Tessa are gone!"_

"_We're here now, my love," a familiar voice spoke and he felt arms wrap around him from behind._

"_Tessa?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder to find her beautiful smiling face resting her chin on his back. _

"_Hello, love," she whispered. "I've missed you."_

"_Oh God, Tess," he cried, closing his eyes. _

"_Shhh," the beautiful French woman said, "it's all right."_

"_How can you both say that?" he asked looking from her to Richie. "You're both gone. The two people that mattered most to me are gone?"_

"_We're here now, Mac," Richie reminded him, smiling._

"_And we're always with you in spirit," Tessa told him. "As long as you remember us and remember how much we loved you then are we truly gone?"_

"_It's not the same," he whispered. "I want you back. Both of you."_

"_Are time has passed, love," Tessa told him, "but yours has not."_

"_Yeah, Mac," Richie said, "you still got Kenny and the Old Timer to look after."_

_Duncan snorted. "Methos is 4600 years older than me," he told him, "and Kenneth is four hundred. They've both survived a long time before I came into the picture."_

"_Did they?" Tessa asked him. "Kenneth died a child, my love, and became a head hunter using his innocence as his ultimate weapon. He was simply surviving, not living."_

"_Yeah, Mac," Richie agreed, "and Methos may be the oldest living Immortal but he's still as human as the next guy. They both need you, and you need them."_

_Duncan sighed. "I need you," he told him. "Both of you."_

"_You'll always have us, love," Tessa told him. "Can you really turn your back on them?"_

_Duncan sighed. "No," he said, resigned. "I suppose I can't. You know me too well."_

_Tessa smiled, kissing him. "Of course I do," she told him, smirking. "We're soul-mates, after all."_

"_Yeah," Duncan told her. "We are."_

"_What am I?" Richie asked, smirking. "Chopped liver?"_

_Duncan chuckled. "No, Rich," he told him, reaching out to pull him into a hug. "You're much more than chopped liver—you're more than just my student, too."_

_Richie smiled. "I know," the boy said. "You were the best dad a guy could have, Mac. I love you."_

_Duncan felt his chest tighten again. "I love you too, son," he said, pulling the boy into a hug._

"_You must go back now, love," Tessa told him. "You have a family that needs you."_

_Duncan nodded. "I know," he said, but he really didn't want to leave._

"_We'll be here waitin' on you, Big Guy," Richie told him._

_He nodded. "You'll both be with me always," he told them._

_He watched as they smiled and then seemed to grow smaller in the distance…_

Duncan awoke with a start. Bright sunlight flitted through the windows.

Glancing at the sofa, he saw that Kenny and Methos continued to snore softly.

He smiled.

His wish had been granted…although, not quite the way he had wanted.

He now knew Tessa and Richie would always be with him in spirit and they would be waiting for him when it came his time.

For now, though, he did have a family that needed him.

Kenny needed him to be a father—or at least a jailer—and Methos…well, Methos needed looking after just as much as the Child Immortal.

He shook his head. And he had thought Richie was a handful?

For the first time in a long time, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod felt alive again.

He had now had not one, but _two_, reasons for living and he supposed as long as they needed him he would remain.

And then…well, then he would rejoin his soul-mate and his son.

He had set out to reform Kenny and in the process had found a family once more.

He supposed, he couldn't ask for a better possible future.

The End.


End file.
